The Labyrinth of London: The Goblin Games
by FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise
Summary: Jareth is about to face his worst enemy yet: a mysterious bomber who likes to play games with people's lives. With the help of some old friends, Jareth will solve each case the bomber can create, if Jareth can keep his personal feelings out of it.
1. Chapter I: Place Your Bets

The Almighty Disclaimer

Oh Moffat and Gatiss,

Henson and Doyle,

To you belongs all the characters

And none so for me!

A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth..." by Pika-la-Cynique of Girls Next Door fame.

Chapter I: Place Your Bets

&%&%&%

"You threw a knife at my door Jareth!" Sarah shouted.

"I was throwing the knife at the target I had put there! I didn't realize you would be coming out at that moment!"

"I was in my room! I could have come out at any second!"

"I thought you were out with your family!"

"I TOLD YOU that I had to stay home tonight because I work early tomorrow! You don't need great powers of deduction to know that!"

"Oh dear, the Lord and the Champion are fighting again?" Sir Didymus asked as he popped into the room.

"Yep. The Rat almost impaled Sarah when she came out of her room," Hoggle said.

"Two tankards of ale on Lord Jareth punching the wall," Zinger said.

"Two tankards of ale that Sarah storms out," Hoggle said.

There quickly was a round of bets laid on who would be leaving, with Sir Didymus (the only honest one) in charge of the accounts. Sarah did storm out first as Mrs. Hudson made her way up the stairs.

"Are you two all right?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"We're fine. If only my so called friends WOULD STOP PLACING BETS ON ME SLUGGING JARETH!" Sarah said, "I AM GOING TO HAVE THE GOBLIN KING BOG ALL OF YOU IF YOU DO NOT LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The goblins froze. Sarah had yelled at them since the first party almost thirteen years ago, but she had never, ever brought up bogging or the Goblin King before. "Well?" Sarah said.

The goblins scrambled out of the apartment and back into the Labyrinth. Sarah was certain that Sir Didymus was blushing under his fur as he made his apologies. Hoggle seemed more confused than the goblins as he left.

It was not their fault. Sarah had never cared before what the goblins thought about her and Jareth. However, after finding out about Jareth and his... history with her, Sarah had been on edge. She just wanted to be left alone and not deal with silly antics. Jareth was hurt by her and there was nothing she could do to help him. She was not able to return those feelings.

When Sarah opened the door to the street, she realized how frigid it was outside. She went back up to her apartment. Jareth was moping by the window.

"Quiet. Calm. Peaceful. Isn't it hateful?" Jareth said, presumably to Mrs. Hudson who had already left the room.

"You can't leave well enough alone, can you?" Sarah said. She walked up to the opposite window and felt Jareth move towards her. Sarah held up her hand to make Jareth stop. "I don't want to talk to you. You are a chaos maker and one of these days you're going to get me..."

Sarah was fortunate that she blinked when the glass broke from the explosion.

&%&%&%

A/N: Ah, nothing like a bang to start off a new story. And yes, definite Jareth/Sarah angst during this story. More so than the other two main stories.

I consider this the weakest of the stories I have written (though some of my favorite parts are in this story). It is also the shortest of the three so far.


	2. Chapter II: This Is War

The Almighty Disclaimer

Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson

Oh Henson and Doyle,

And Pika-la Cynique the generous,

To you belongs all the characters

And none so for me!

A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth..." by Pika-la-Cynique of Girls Next Door fame.

The chapter title is a reference to the song "This Is War" by 30 Seconds to Mars

&%&%&%

He had lost his kingdom for her.

Twice.

And she was bleeding out.

Dying.

Again.

Her beautiful face was scratched and torn with glass embedded in her skin, making her sparkle like the glitter she so often mocked him for (not knowing that he had no control over how his magic decided to fall apart).

He crawled over the broken glass to where she had fallen.

The person most precious to him was bleeding out. With what little magic he could conjure under the restraints he was placed, he healed the more desperate wounds.

"Oh, God. What happened?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she began to make her way over to where Jareth was kneeling.

"Call Mycroft," Jareth said. He was surprised by how calm he sounded. "Get bandages. Call Lestrade. Now."

Mrs. Hudson did not argue and moved quickly downstairs. Jareth placed pressure on Sarah's other wounds. She would live until the medics arrived or anyone Mycroft decided to send showed up.

Sarah stirred and grimaced. "Ow."

"Don't move," Jareth said, "I don't want you to be more damaged."

Sarah opened her eyes, which were somehow unharmed. He had never been happier to see those green eyes, even if they were in pain. She lifted a hand and touched Jareth's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"You were just hit by a bomb blast and you're asking if I am all right?"

"You have a cut on your face," Sarah said.

"I will heal," he said, "I need to know where you are hurt."

"Everywhere. My ears are buzzing. What happened?"

"I have absolutely no idea but I sense that there was ill intent behind it."

&%&%&%

"What is all this fuss about? Did another goblin catch some of the air from the Bog of Eternal Stench and try to set it on fire?" Mycroft asked. He had arrived a little after wooden boards had been nailed to the windows.

"Sorry, but a bomb went off that was not goblin related," Jareth said. He was at his piano, fiddling with the keys.

"It was a gas leak," Mycroft said.

"Bomb," Jareth said.

"Paranoid," Mycroft said.

"Lazy," Jareth said.

Mycroft took a seat and poured himself some tea. "And how are you Ms. Williams?"

Sarah was in Jareth's seat, her feet tucked under her. "I will heal. Your people did a good job."

"They are among the best," Mycroft said, "Your siblings are well?"

"Yeah. They freaked when they found out about the bomb," Sarah said.

"It was a gas leak," Mycroft said.

"Bomb," Sarah said.

"You're encouraging him. That never leads to good things," Mycroft said.

"You are worried about something or else you would not have shown up," Sarah said, "Really, Mr. Umbrella, what is it you really want with us?"

"Whatever it is, I can't," Jareth said, "I am far too busy to take on one of your cases."

"Can't?" Mycroft asked.

"I have too much going on around here. I cannot take it on," Jareth said.

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance," Mycroft said.

Jareth began playing the James Bond theme.

"If you are so keen, Mycroft, why don't you investigate it?" Jareth asked.

Mycroft shook his head. "No. no. no . I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time. Not with the Korean elections so... Well, you don't need to know about that, do you? Besides, a case like this requires legwork."

Jareth switched to the _Pink Panther_ theme.

"Jareth's business seems to be booming since you and he became pals. What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine," Mycroft said.

_Of course he would use Sarah as an angle. Two can play that game. One little tap of his umbrella out of line and I will pull THE card._

Sarah motioned to the trashed apartment. "I'm never bored."

Mycroft said, "Good, that's good, isn't it?" Mycroft attempted to hand a file to Jareth but was ignored. Mycroft gave the file to Sarah. "Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends. Civil servant. Found dead on the tracks at Battersea station this morning with his head smashed in."

Sarah flinched. "Jumped in front of a train?"

"Seems the logical assumption," Mycroft said.

"But?" Sarah said.

Mycroft mimicked her. "But?"

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident," Sarah said.

"The MoD is working on a new missile defense system. The Bruce-Partington Program, it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick," Mycroft said.

"That wasn't very clever," Sarah said.

Jareth snickered.

"It's not the only copy. But it is secret and missing," Mycroft said.

"Top secret?" Sarah asked with an edge of conspiracy in her voice.

"Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands," Mycroft said.

"So, an American nurse who lives with a fairytale character who dislikes proper trousers is not the wrong hands?" Sarah asked.

Jareth laughed but quickly covered his mouth, trying to regain his dignity. Mycroft walked over to Jareth and Mr. Holmes played a particularly jarring chord against what Jareth had just been playing.

"You've got to find those plans, Jareth. Don't make me order you," Mycroft said.

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think that I would investigate some minor murder when there is a bomber trying to destroy 221b Baker Street?"

"Gas leak, Jareth," Mycroft said.

"Mycroft, if you will not let me investigate, I will get someone who will," Jareth said.

The British Government glared but took a step back from Jareth. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would," Jareth said.

The two men stared at each other for a solid twenty-one point three seconds before Jareth jumped from the piano bench and grabbed his phone from the side table next to Sarah. He texted quickly and Mycroft had his own phone out almost as fast.

"Victory is mine!" Jareth shouted once he had sent his text.

Mycroft's mouth twitched. "You will regret this."

Jareth sat in the chair Mycroft had previously occupied. "Doubtful."

Mycroft shook Sarah's hand before leaving. "Good bye Ms. Williams. See you very soon."

After Mycroft left, Sarah threw a pillow at Jareth. "What was that for? I doubt he would just come to you to be a nuisance."

"Actually, he would," Jareth said, "I do have important business. I am waiting for Scotland Yard to..."

The phone rang and Jareth answered. "Yes? Of course. Lestrade? Lestrade? Hello?" Jareth shook his phone and then threw it across the room.

"Gremlins," he hissed.

"They messed with your phone again?" Sarah asked.

"Yes. We need to get over to the Yard. Lestrade has something he wants us to see," Jareth said.

"We?" Sarah asked.

"I'd be lost without my blogger, Sarah. Besides, it's about the explosion," Jareth said.

&%&%&%

As they made their way through Scotland Yard, Lestrade said, "You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones."

"Obviously," Jareth said.

"You'll love this. That explosion," Lestrade said.

"Bomb, yes?" Jareth asked. He enjoyed the look of surprise on Sally's face.

"Yes, made to look like a gas explosion," Lestrade said, "Hardly anything left of the place. Except a strongbox. A very strong box and inside it was this." There was a well-made envelope with the word "Jareth" written on it.

"You haven't opened it?" Jareth asked as he examined the envelope on the table.

"It's addressed to you, isn't it? We've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped," Lestrade said.

Jareth looked upwards in exasperation. "How reassuring. Nice stationery. Bohemian."

"What?" Sarah asked.

"It used to be called Bohemia but is now the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?" Jareth asked.

"No," Lestrade said.

"She used a fountain pen. Parker Duofold, Merdian nib," Jareth said. _Why does it look familiar?_

"She?" Sarah asked.

"Obviously," Jareth said.

"Obviously," Sarah said, mimicking his voice.

"I know this handwriting," Jareth said.

For a moment, he was consumed by thoughts of _her_. He had pushed her out for centuries. Once he had fallen for Sarah, he had honestly not thought about _her_. Now, faced with a new puzzle with _her_ handwriting, he felt like _she_ had harmed him all over again.

"Care to elaborate?" Sarah asked.

"Not particularly no. She isn't important. This is too clever for her," Jareth said.

Jareth opened the envelope and pulled out a pink phone.

&%&%&%

A/N: Why do I enjoy putting Jareth through this much angst? Honestly, there must be something wrong with me.

As for _her_, well, you're just going to have to wait awhile. Though I think it is rather obvious, I am the writer so I know what is going to happen. It is not the series explanation, just so you know.

Once again, Mycroft. One of my favorite characters to write.


	3. Chapter III: You Too? I Thought I Was

The Almighty Disclaimer

Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson

Oh Henson and Doyle,

And Pika-la Cynique the generous,

To you belongs all the characters

And none so for me!

A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth..." by Pika-la-Cynique of Girls Next Door fame.

The title of this chapter comes from _Surprised by Joy_by C. S. Lewis and it refers to when friendship is born.

&%&%&%

"I know this handwriting," Jareth said.

For a moment, Jareth had looked like when Sarah rejected him in the Escher room. Sarah was reminded of her conversation with Rossetti about a girl Jareth had "invested in" before Sarah.

"Care to elaborate?" Sarah asked, hoping to break Jareth out of whatever dark place he had gone to when he recognized the handwriting.

"Not particularly no. She isn't important. This is too clever for her," Jareth said. He opened the envelope with a knife and he pulled out a familiar cell phone.

"That's the phone. The pink phone," Sarah said.

"What? From the 'Study in Pink'?" Lestrade asked.

"Obviously, it's not the same phone. But it's supposed to look like..." Jareth paused and then snarled, "'Study In Pink'? You read her blog?"

"Of course I read her blog. We all do. I appreciate you changing our names and saying it's fictional, Sarah. It might not go over well with the press," Lestrade said, "I do hear that Jareth is starting to get fan girls."

"Yeah, I really want my shrink to know that I play _Scrabble _with goblins every Thursday," Sarah said, completely ignoring the last comment.

Jareth tapped the phone. "It is not the same phone. This one is brand new. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone which means your blog has a far wider readership than you expected, Sarah."

Jareth turned on the phone and put it on speaker. "You have one new message." The phone let off five beeps.

"Was that it?" Lestrade asked.

Jareth shook his head. "No, that's not it." He held up the phone and it showed a picture of a a water damaged room.

"What in the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips?" Lestrade said.

Jareth said, "It is a warning."

"A warning?" Lestrade asked.

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that to people they were going to kill. Five pips. They are warning us it's going to happen again. I have seen this place before," Jareth said. He began walking out of Scotland Yard.

Sarah ran after him, putting on her red and white stripped hat. "Hang on. What's going to happen again?"

Jareth said, "Boom."

&%&%&%

"What do you mean you were expecting this?" Sarah said as they drove over to St. Bart's after the phone call from the bomber's hostage.

"As you know, the cabbie said that I had a fan," Jareth said.

"Yes, so?"

Jareth motioned towards Sarah and then back to himself. "When you become obsessed with someone you have not had a real connection with, you have certain expectations. You believe they can do all these wonderful things so you set certain things in their path and hope that they can show off their brilliance while also showing off yours."

"And if they are not happy with what is given to them, you set the Cleaners on them, or in this case blow up an innocent person."

Jareth nodded. "Good. You follow."

"Unfortunately, yes."

They were silent for a few minutes and avoided looking at each other. "I would never have allowed real harm to come to you."

"You were still mad enough to scare me, Jareth. That's one of the signs of emotional abuse. It makes a girl wary."

Jareth turned quickly towards Sarah. "I never, ever would purposefully harmed you."

"That's what they all say, Jareth. Until I see you act in a healthy manner towards me on a consistent basis, I will be moving out. Anything else you want is definitely out of the question."

Jareth nodded. "I understand."

&%&%&%

Sarah was walking back to the lab when she ran into a tall man in a long winter coat who was talking to a shorter man.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you hurt?" Sarah asked.

The tall man turned around. He was odd looking but the combination of strong features made him rather handsome. His blonde, short friend was attractive as well.

The tall man smiled at Sarah. "It's quite all right. Could I borrow your phone for a moment? My reception doesn't work here."

Sarah pulled out her phone and handed it to the tall man. He seemed surprised by this, but took the phone. He quickly sent a text and gave it back to Sarah.

"Thank you, Ms. Williams," the tall man said as he walked away.

"No problem... wait! How do you know my name?"

The two men turned the corner and Sarah ran after them. The men continued to the lab. Jareth was looking into his microscope when he spoke.

"How are you Sherlock?" Jareth said. He looked up from his work.

"Oh, just fine," the tall man said, "So is John. Just met Ms. Williams in the hallway."

"Wait, you're Sherlock?" Sarah asked. _He looks nothing like his brother._

Sherlock nodded, shaking Sarah's hand. "Sherlock Holmes. This is my friend, Dr. John Watson."

Sarah shook John's hand. "Hello, Ms. Williams. Have you found a head in the fridge yet?"

"Oh, yes. Last week," Sarah said.

"My first week," John said. "Does he still walk around the apartment in just a sheet?"

"Yes, he does," Sarah said.

"Sherlock does the same."

"Does he start going on tangents about tobacco ash?"

"Yes! I think it's because they can't smoke anymore."

"I thought so too! John, I think we shall be swapping horror stories when this is over."

"Why don't we do that over lunch?"

"Three continents Watson," Jareth said, "Don't you dare use Sarah as a way to conquer North America. Are you two quite finished?"

"Three continents?" Sarah asked.

"Army nickname," John said, looking somewhat abashed.

"Why shoes? Why these shoes?" Sherlock mumbled as he looked over the mystery footwear.

Jareth was about to respond when Molly came into the room. "Jareth, can I... John! Sherlock!"

John gave Molly a hug. "Nice to see you again Molly."

"Nice to see you too," Molly said, "I'll... I'll be back in a minute." Molly almost ran out of the room.

"It seems Molly still has an infatuation with me," Sherlock sighed.

"I think she is dating someone," Sarah said.

"Really? Molly?" John said.

"Yeah, Jim is his name, I think," Sarah said, "He's from I.T. and they have been going out a few times from what I can tell."

"10 days but no sex," Sherlock said.

"You forgot the non-date 12 days ago," Jareth said.

"She is starting to question if they should continue," Sherlock said.

Molly pulled a dark haired man into the lab. "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes. And Jareth King. And John Watson. And Sarah."

Jim shyly held out his hand to Jareth but was ignored. "Hi. So, you're Jareth King, the detective. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?"

Molly seemed proud of herself. "Jim works in IT, upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance."

"Gay," Jareth mumbled.

"Sorry, what?: Molly said.

"Nothing. Hey," Jareth said.

"Hi," Jim knocked over a dish and put it back up. "Sorry. Sorry. Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at the Fox. About sixth?"

"Yeah. Bye," Molly said.

"Bye. It was nice to meet you," Jim said.

Jareth ignored Jim. "You too," John said.

As Jim moved out of the room, Jareth looked at him for a moment and raised an eyebrow. "Have we met before?

"How could we?" Jim asked.

Jareth nodded and Jim finally left.

"What do you mean, gay? We're together," Molly said.

Sarah took a pained breath and made a small noise of protest.

"What? You too?" Molly asked.

"He does... sashay more than Jareth," Sarah said.

"I do not sashay!" Jareth said.

"Yes, you do," was the universal response.

Sherlock glared and held up a piece of paper. "If he is straight, why did he leave Jareth his number?"

Molly gaped and then stormed out of the room.

"And the award for worst friends in an ensemble cast goes to..." Sarah said.

"You were going to bring it up anyway," Jareth said.

"Not in front of a guy that she has a crush on. Why do you think she brought Jim down here? She wanted to make Sherlock jealous," Sarah said.

Before Sherlock could respond, John's phone went off.

"Text from your brother," John said.

"Delete it," Sherlock said.

"Delete it?" John asked.

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it," Jareth said.

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted me about eight times," John said.

"Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" Sherlock asked in exasperation.

"His what?" Sarah asked.

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans tried to sell them got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story," Sherlock said.

"How do you know about the plans?" Sarah asked.

"Mycroft is trying to keep me away from this by giving me a problem that I consider boring," Sherlock said, "As I said before, boring. Now, Sarah, I haven't seen you in action. Go on. You must know what Jareth does.

"No," Sarah said.

"Go on," Sherlock said.

"I am not playing this game. It will just waste time anyway. You and Jareth probably are already half way to solving this," Sarah said.

"More like three-quarters," Jareth grumbled.

"Nope," Sarah said, "Not happening."

"But Sarah..." Jareth whined.

"I will show the blackmail," Sarah said.

Jareth had a look of horror cross his face. "Sherlock, just tell them."

Sherlock looked heavenward and mumbled something along the lines of "stupid git". "These shoes are from the eighties. The owner loved these shoes. Scrubbed them clean. Whitened them where they got discolored. Changed the laces three, no four times. Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them. So he suffered from eczema. The shoes are well worn, more so on the inner side which means the owner had weak arches. British made. 20 years old. They're limited edition. Two blue stripes. 1989."

"There's still mud on them. They look new," Sarah said

"Someone has kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it's from Sussex with London mud overlaying it," Jareth said.

"Let me guess: pollen," Sarah said.

"Yes. The kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex 20 years ago. And left them behind," Sherlock said.

"So, what happened to him?" John asked.

"Something terrible. He loved those shoes," Jareth said. "He would never leave them filthy. He would not let these... Sherlock. What was the name of the boy on your first case."

"Carl Powers. No. Yes! Come on," Sherlock said as he ran out of the room.

"He does that a lot," John said.

&%&%&%

As they rode in the taxi, Sherlock explained. "It was 1989. Young kid, champion swimmer, came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament, drowned in the pool. Tragic accident."

"Let me guess; something was off about the case," Sarah said.

"Carl Powers had some kind of fit in the water but by the time they got him out, it was too late. There was something wrong somewhere. I couldn't get it out of my head."

"What?" Sarah asked.

"His shoes," Sherlock said.

"What about them?" Sarah said.

"They weren't there. I made a fuss. I tried to get the police interested. But nobody seemed to think it was important. He'd left all the rest of his clothes in his locker. But there was no sign of his shoes. Until now."

"So, what are you going to do?" Sarah asked.

"I can't do anything," Sherlock said, "I am here merely as an assistant. Only Jareth can solve it."

"What you can do, Sarah, is stick with John and solve Mycroft's idiotic case," Jareth said.

&%&%&%

After dealing with Mycroft, Sarah found Jareth sprawled out on his chair. "Poison," Jareth said.

"What are you going on about?" John asked.

Jareth explained, "Clostridium botulinum. It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet. Carl Powers. He suffered from eczema. The poison was introduced into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London. The poison takes effect, paralyzes the muscles and he drowns. Virtually undetectable. There's still tiny traces of it left inside the trainers from where he put the cream on his feet. That's why they had to go. Sarah, post the answer on your blog."

Sarah rolled her eyes but did it anyway.

&%&%&%

A/N: And Sherlock and John finally make an appearance! I have been holding off on bringing them. 1. Because anticipation makes things better (unless it is waiting for Season 3) 2. I felt like Sherlock and Jareth would just end up consuming each other's roles (which they have, somewhat).


	4. Chapter IV: A Mother's Love

The Almighty Disclaimer

Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson

Oh Henson and Doyle,

And Pika-la Cynique the generous,

To you belongs all the characters

And none so for me!

A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth..." by Pika-la-Cynique of Girls Next Door fame.

&%&%&%

Jareth sat at his piano but did not open the cover for the keys. Sherlock was pretending to mope on the couch while sneaking a peak at the crap telly that John was watching (though John was only paying half attention to it and half to a medical journal). Sarah was sitting by the bookcase, looking over books on abnormal psychology.

They sat like this, barely moving, hardly daring to breathe for over an hour. Sherlock and Jareth were both thinking about the case and trying to guess who the bomber was. Sarah was trying to understand the bomber and get around his games. John was ready to go into soldier mode at any moment.

That is until Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs carrying a tray of biscuits and tea.

Sherlock jumped up into action, took the tray from Mrs. Hudson, and elegantly shoved it onto John's lap. "Mrs. Hudson, how wonderful to see you."

"Oh, Sherlock, good to see you too," Mrs. Hudson said, hugging the former consulting detective. She went over and ruffled John's hair. "Still using a buzz cut I see. I think it would be nice to let it grow out."

"It is a lot easier to deal with, unlike Sir Mop over there," John said, tilting his head towards Sherlock.

"Oh dear, it is quite a mess, isn't it?" Mrs. Hudson said, "I'll just go get the scissors and a towel. You sit down young man and I'll take care of you. No arguing."

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said with a sigh.

When Mrs. Hudson had made her way down the stairs, Sherlock leapt into Jareth's chair. "Mrs. Hudson loves me more," he said with a smile.

"No one, not even Mrs. Hudson, will touch my hair," Jareth said.

Sarah chuckled and did not look as pale as she had been since the bomber had called. This pleased Jareth and he wanted to make her laugh again, even if it was at his own expense.

Mrs. Hudson bustled up the stairs with the scissors and a soft, gray-blue towel. "Sit up, Sherlock. There you go. Now, I'll just clean it up and then you will look less like a tragic opera character. Oh, is that the Connie Prince news? Sad, isn't it? Put on something a little brighter. I know the lot of you have been dealing with this awful bomber. A little break between the waves is a good thing."

As Mrs. Hudson cut Sherlock's hair, she hummed peppy jazz songs that made Sherlock smirk. John had turned down the TV and was reading his magazine. Sarah had stopped reading her books and watched with a content smile the domestic scene before her. Jareth hazard to sit next to Sarah, and was rewarded with her resting her head on his shoulder.

"Was it always like this? Between cases?" Sarah asked.

"No. It was much more chaotic. However, particularly after John, Sherlock took more care with Mrs. Hudson," Jareth said. He could catch the scent of her hair, even without burying his face in it like he wanted to do.

"Sherlock let his hair grow out so Mrs. Hudson could cut it," Sarah said.

"Of course," Jareth said.

They were quiet for a long time. As Mrs. Hudson was finishing the last bits of Sherlock's hair, she spoke. "You really ought to come by more. Bees shouldn't take up that much time."

"No, they shouldn't," Sherlock said, "Annoying little buggers."

"Is he treating you right, John?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"He treats me like he always does. We are fine, Mrs. Hudson," John said.

"Good," Mrs. Hudson said firmly. She began cleaning up the hair on the floor with a hand broom and dust pan. "You know, these boys kept me from losing my mind, Sarah. Their antics kept me busy."

"Yes, and you kept us clean," Jareth said.

"Not your housekeeper," Mrs. Hudson said, purposefully ignoring the real meaning, "Off to bed for me. Not as young as I used to be, you know."

John gave Mrs. Hudson a hug before she went down the stairs. Sarah turned towards Jareth and touched his arm gently before speaking. "I had an... odd thought come through my head. Not an odd thought, a terrible thought. Did Mr. Hudson kill Mrs. Hudson child or children?"

Jareth nodded.

"And that's why you made sure he got the death penalty in Florida," Sarah said.

Jareth nodded again.

Sherlock spoke. "No one wanted to believe a man could do that to his children. He did it while Mrs. Hudson was out shopping. Just did it, for fun, a little game. Not here, mind you. Mrs. Hudson had enough sanity left to know that it would kill her to stay in that house. Mr. Hudson did it again, about ten years ago. Mrs. Hudson came to us in tears, begging us to prove whether he did it or not. She couldn't bear the thought of justice not being given to another mother so... here we are."

Jareth took Sarah's hand and said quietly, "We did everything as properly as possible. There was no flaw in our case. We did not condemn an innocent man to die."

Sarah nodded and rested her head against Jareth's shoulder again. "Thank you, for telling me."

Jareth felt (what he very rarely felt which was) uncomfortable with the praise. "Go to bed, Sarah. We have a long day tomorrow," Jareth said.

"You are not going to sleep though."

"I do not have the same need for sleep as you, precious. Go. I will be fine."

Sarah squeezed Jareth's hand and left the room. Sherlock gave a lopsided grin. "She likes you, you know. Just not in a 'Oh, let me have your goblin babies' type of way."

"Sherlock, if you ever talk about my relationship to Sarah ever again, I have no problem letting the goblins into your beehives."

John laughed. "Have you met those little buggers? I think they can take care of themselves."

&%&%&%

As the four walked into Scotland Yard, Sally Donovan saw them, looked down at her coffee, and then looked back up again. "Bloody hell. What did I drink this morning?"

"Well, if it wasn't brewed by Sherlock, I think you'll survive," John said.

"My coffee is edible," Sherlock said.

"It's used as an acid by the army," John said. He shook Sally's hand. "Good to see you again Donovan."

"Watson," Sally said, regaining her sense of place, "Oye, freak, what's junior freak doing here?"

"I am in no way Jareth's junior. Why does everyone think that?" Sherlock asked.

"Maybe it's the cheekbones," Sarah said.

"What about my cheekbones?" Jareth and Sherlock said defensively.

"What's with all this lolling about?" Lestrade said.

"Nothing. We are coming Inspector," Jareth said.

Lestrade held up a file as he led the group to his office. "The woman in the car lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in wearing masks forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house. Told her to phone you. Check the read out from this pager." Lestrade handed the file to Jareth.

"If she deviated by one word, the sniper would have set her off," Jareth said.

"Or if you hadn't solved the case," Sarah added.

"Elegant," Sherlock said.

"Elegant?" John said, making one of his extreme facial expressions.

"Oh, I can't be the only person in the world that gets bored," Jareth said.

The pink phone buzzed. Jareth opened the message.

"Four pips," John said.

"I passed the first test. This is the second," Jareth said as he looked at the photo, "It is abandoned, wouldn't you say?"

"I'll see if it's been reported," Lestrade said.

Sally popped her head in and held out her phone. "Freak, it's for you."

Jareth took the phone without question. "Hello."

"It's okay that you've gone to the police," the male voice said.

"Is this you again? You have quite the vocal range," Jareth said.

"But don't rely on them. Clever you. Guessing about Carl Powers. I never liked him. Carl laughed at me. So I stopped him laughing."

"You are starting to remind me of that sea witch in that incredibly inaccurate movie about a certain mermaid. This is truly unnecessary for someone of your talents, surely."

"This is about you and me," the man said.

Jareth had been trying to analyze everything he could hear over the phone. He wished that he was wrong about his guess of where the new bomb victim was. "What's that noise?"

"It's the sounds of life. Jareth. But don't worry, I can soon fix that. You solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time you have eight. It's not nice to have the hours taken from you, is it?" The call ended.

Lestrade came back into his office. "Great. We've found it."

"He's chosen a crowded area this time. He is upping the stakes," Jareth said. He slipped his phone in his pocket. "Really quite unnecessary. I would play just to hear his real voice."

&%&%&%

Sarah said as they walked away from the bloody car, "Is that why you kept Sherlock around? To have someone act for you, to lie for you. It's just like when we were trying to get into that apartment the other day."

"I have never said humanity did not have its strengths, Sarah. I cannot lie but Sherlock can. That, along with him being somewhat clever, make him a useful ally," Jareth said.

"But you're not his friend," Sarah said.

"He has not said such to me," Jareth said.

"By the powers that be, you're still sulking over his wish for John Watson, aren't you?"

"Sarah, I really hate it when you can read me so well."

&%&%&%

"The clue's in the name: Janus Cars," the man on the phone said.

"Why would you be giving me a clue?" Jareth said

"Why does anyone do anything? Because I'm bored. We were made for each other, Goblin King," the voice said.

Jareth flinched at his old title. "Then talk to me in your own voice. I would so love to know if we could do a little duet."

"Patience." The call ended.

"I am not a patient man," Jareth said to himself.

&%&%&%

"Well, if it isn't a vampire's favorite summer treat: frozen blood," Jareth said.

"Jareth... are you serious?" Sarah asked

Jareth was nearly skipping out of the laboratory.

"Jareth! Don't you dare just walk off like that!"

&%&%&%

A/N: I found out that the reason why Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock have such a close relationship in the series is because Benedict Cumberbatch grew up with Una Stubbs as a family friend and it would have been too awkward for Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson's relationship to be otherwise.

Yes, Jareth and Sherlock have had unofficial sulking matches. They had one that lasted for an hour or so when they first met. (Yes, I will be writing something on the Holmes brothers and their relationship with Jareth at some point in the future. BUT IT IS NOT THIS DAY!)


	5. Chapter V: I Do Believe in You

The Almighty Disclaimer

Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson

Oh Henson and Doyle,

And Pika-la Cynique the generous,

To you belongs all the characters

And none so for me!

A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth..." by Pika-la-Cynique of Girls Next Door fame.

&%&%&%

"Jareth, have you been asking John to watch over me during the case?" Sarah asked as they sat in a diner, waiting for Sherlock and John to show-up for breakfast.

Jareth was watching the happenings in the restaurant. "Why would you think that Sarah? He could be flirting. Flirting badly, admittedly."

Sarah's scrambled eggs and potato wedges were given to her. She said between bites, "One: At least he hasn't thrown a snake at me. Two: That was not a no."

Jareth focused entirely on Sarah. "All things have weaknesses, Sarah. Humans become ill. Fae cannot touch cold iron. You have your family and friends. Sherlock and John have each other. I have you. For me to find out what our bomber's weakness is, I need to know that you are safe. John is the only one I trust outside the Labyrinth to do that. You may see him as a mild-mannered, somewhat snarky, medical doctor. I see him as a trained soldier who considered it a good day when he did not have to see one of his friends blown-up from left over mines and then he had to kill a couple dozen enemy soldier to pick up the few scraps of human flesh and bone left over."

Sarah nodded, thinking of her own time as a medic. "Who watches out for you then? Sherlock? Rossetti?"

"I can take care of myself."

"I think that you are overestimating your own abilities."

"I think that you do not really know what I am capable of and because of that you do not think I can solve this puzzle."

Before Sarah could respond, John and Sherlock sat down. John said, "Has it occurred to you..."

"Probably," Jareth said.

"No, has it occurred to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope, breaking into the other flat. The dead kid's shoes, it's all meant for you. He knows what you are," John said.

"Yes, I know. I am aware of the risks in playing this game, for that is what it is to the bomber," Jareth said.

"You are an idiot, Jareth," Sarah muttered, taking another bite of her sandwich.

"Is it him, than? Moriarty?" John asked.

"There is always a possibility," Jareth said, "And you, Sarah, stop emoting so much. I am drowning in annoyance from across the table. I am sure the rest of the table will..."

The phone buzzed. Jareth opened the message. There were three pips and a picture of a middle-aged woman.

"That could be anybody," Jareth said.

"Well, it could be, yeah. Lucky for you, I've been more than a little unemployed at different points in my life," John said.

"How did you mean?" Jareth asked.

John switched the channel to a make-over show where the woman in the picture was hosting her show. "The name is Connie Prince."

The phone rang again and Jareth put it on speaker. "Hello?"

An elderly female's voice was on the phone. "This one is a bit defective. Sorry. She's blind. This is a funny one. I'll give you 12 hours."

"Why are you doing this?" Jareth asked, "I can think of several other games we could play.

"I like to watch you dance," the woman said.

&%&%&%

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Joining the dots. Three hours. Boom. Boom," the woman said.

Jareth rolled his eyes as the phone hung up. "Do be a little more creative."

&%&%&%

"How long, Jareth?" Sarah asked as the two made their way to Lestrade's office. Sherlock and John were on a "side mission" as Jareth described it.

"What?" Jareth asked.

"How long have you known?" Sarah asked.

"Well, this one was quite simple. As I said, the bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake," Jareth said.

"Jareth, did you think about the hostage? The old woman, she's been there all this time," Sarah said.

"I knew I could save her. I also knew that the bomber had given us 12 hours. I solved the case quickly that gave me time to get on with other things. Do you not see it? We are one move ahead of him," Jareth said.

"John is right. The bomber is doing this to mess with you and you are not taking this seriously," Sarah said.

"Well, now I can 'mess with' him back now," Jareth said, "Can you type in the following onto your blog? Raoul de Santos, the house-boy, botox."

The phone rang almost as soon as Sarah posted the answer.

"Help me," the old woman said.

"Tell us where you are. What is your address?" Jareth asked.

"He was so... His voice," the old woman said.

"No. Tell me nothing about him. Absolutely nothing," Jareth said.

"He sounded so soft..." the old woman said.

&%&%&%

Sarah did not know why she thought they would hear the boom. The phone just cut off. Lestrade allowed himself a moment of shock before calling various people to find where the bomb went off. Jareth stood up and was ready to throw the pink phone against the wall when Sarah grabbed his wrist.

"Don't, Jareth. Who knows what the bomber will do if you try to break the rules of the game," Sarah said.

Jareth said through a clenched jaw, "He already broke the rules. I solved the puzzle. He killed the woman anyway."

Sarah quickly switched her phone for the pink phone. She let Jareth throw it against the wall, shattering the screen.

"Feel better?" Sarah asked.

"No," Jareth said.

Sarah made Jareth face her. She held his wrists as she spoke. "You did nothing wrong. The woman broke her rules but how that bomber... how that... thing who can treat people like toys can expect them to act as if nothing is wrong and... I don't understand it."

Jareth turned his hands so he could hold Sarah's wrists as well. "He treats people as objects and expects them to still think like a human. Is that what you are saying?"

Sarah nodded, feeling too shaken to speak.

Jareth nodded as well. "Someone has even higher expectations than you, Sarah. I have underestimated him too much. A man who expects one to follow the rules but not himself is not a stable player to go up against."

"Says the man who stole three hours from me."

Jareth smirked. "That's why I can beat him, precious. We are very much alike."

"No you're not," Sarah said quickly, "You are not willing to do everything to win, which is what makes you a good man."

Jareth laughed without humor. "Oh, precious, how little you know of good men if you think that I can be counted amongst them."

"A good man, not a perfect one," Sarah said. She released her grip on Jareth and went to find Lestrade.

&%&%&%

A message was coming through on the pink phone. Sarah quickly whispered to Jareth, "I do believe in you, Jareth. Always remember that, no matter what happens."

"You do?" Jareth asked.

"Yes, I do."

Jareth opened the message and listened to the two pips.

&%&%&%

A/N: Why do I keep over using these quotes? Why? Why do I enjoy it so much? Answer: Because I am a fan girl and if a fan girl does not quote, said fan girl will explode.

I hope this shows that Sarah does care for Jareth, it's just they are at different places emotionally.


	6. Chapter VI: I Move the Stars for No One

The Almighty Disclaimer

Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson

Oh Henson and Doyle,

And Pika-la Cynique the generous,

To you belongs all the characters

And none so for me!

A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth..." by Pika-la-Cynique of Girls Next Door fame.

&%&%&%

"Why do I keep ending up with either no bodies or too-dead bodies?" Jareth said with a sigh as he stood beside the body by the Thames. "I think the bomber is being purposefully annoying me and ignoring my gifts."

"Oh yes, because the first thing I think when I see a dead body is 'someone is trying to annoy me' or something of the sort," Sarah said.

Sherlock nearly stumbled in eagerness as he came by the body. "What have we got?"

John was already by the body. "He's dead about 24 hours. Maybe a bit longer. Did he drown?"

"Apparently not. Not enough of the Thames in his lungs. Asphyxiated," Lestrade said.

At this point, the two consulting detectives and their medical friends were examining the corpse. "Yes, I'd agree. There's quite a bit of bruising around the nose and mouth. More bruises, here and there," John said.

"Fingertips," Sarah said, "He is in his late thirties, maybe. I would say that he was not in the best of health."

"He's been in the river a long while. The water has destroyed most of the clues. I will tell you one thing and that is the lost Vermeer painting is a fake," Jareth said.

"What?" Lestrade said.

Jareth continued. "We need to identify the corpse find out about his friends and..."

"Wait, Wait, Wait, What painting? What are you on about?" Lestrade asked.

"It's all over the place, haven't you seen the posters? Dutch old master. It was supposed to have been destroyed centuries ago. Now it's turned up, worth 30 million. I cannot quite remember if I visited that painting..."

"How old are you Jareth?" Sarah asked.

"He won't say," Sherlock said, "My guess is post English Civil War but pre-American Revolution. He sometimes refers to the United States as the colonies. He has a particular hatred of Cromwell that I have not seen in anyone living."

"That's because you've only just met me," Sarah said with a smirk.

Lestrade rolled his eyes at the side conversation. "Okay. So what has that got to do with the stiff?

"Everything. Have you ever heard of the Golem?" Jareth asked.

"Golem?" Lestrade asked.

"It's a horror story, isn't it? What are you saying? Is this a magical death?" John asked.

Sarah began to answer. "It is a Jewish folk story. A gigantic man made of clay that protects the Jewish people in their time of need. There are many variations of this story."

"It's also the name of an assassin. Real name, Oskar Dzundza. One of the deadliest assassins in the world. That is his trademark style," Sherlock said.

"I have had run-ins with him before," Jareth said, "He is not magical but he is... persistence."

"So this is a hit?" Lestrade said.

"Definitely. The Golem squeezes the life out of his victims with his bare hands," Jareth said.

"But what has this got to do with that painting? I don't see it," Lestrade said.

"You do see, you just don't observe," Sherlock and Jareth said at the same time.

Lestrade looked ready to punch the two consulting detectives. John stood between them.

"Yes, all right, all right, girls. Calm down. Jareth, do you want to take us mere mortals through it?" John said.

Jareth looked towards the heavens in exasperation. "All right children, what do we know about this corpse? The killer has not left us with much, just the shirt and the trousers. They are fairly formal. Maybe he was going out for the night. The trousers are heavy duty, polyester. This is same as the shirt. Both are cheap. They are both too big for him. So they are some kind of standard-issue uniform. He is dressed for work. What kind of work? There is a hook on his belt for a walkie-talkie."

"Tube driver?" Sarah said.

"Security guard?" John said.

"That one is more likely. That'll be borne out by his backside," Sherlock said.

"Backside?" Lestrade said.

"Flabby, you'd think he led a sedentary life. Yet, the soles of his feet and the nascent varicose veins in his legs show otherwise. So, a lot of walking and a lot of sitting around. Security guard is looking good. The watch helps too. The alarm shows he did regular night shifts," Sherlock said.

"Why regular? Maybe he set his alarm like that the night before he died?" Sarah said.

"No, no, no. The buttons are stiff, hardly touched. He set his alarm like that a long time ago. His routine never varied. But there's something else. The killer must have been interrupted otherwise he would have stripped the corpse completely. There was some kind of badge or insignia on the shirt front that he tore off. Suggesting the dead man works somewhere recognizable, some kind of institution. I found this inside his trouser pockets. Sodden by the river, but still recognizable," Sherlock said.

"Tickets?" John said.

"Ticket stubs. He worked in a museum or gallery," Jareth clarified.

"Did a quick check. The Hickman Gallery has reported one of its attendants as missing. Alex Woodbridge," Sherlock said.

"Tonight, the gallery will unveil the rediscovered masterpiece. Now, why would anyone want to pay the Golem to suffocate a perfectly ordinary gallery attendant? Inference, the dead man knew something about it. Something that would stop the owner getting paid 30 million. The picture is a fake," Jareth said.

"Fantastic," Sarah said with glee.

"Meretricious," Sherlock said.

"And a Happy New Year," Lestrade said.

"Poor sod," John said.

"I'd better get my feelers out for this Golem character," Lestrade said.

"It is pointless. You will never find him. But I know a man who can," Jareth said.

"Who?" Lestrade said.

"Me," Jareth said.

&%&%&%

"You know, pride goes before the fall," John said. The four were sitting by the Thames river and Jareth was unable to make contact with the Underground.

"This is odd. This entire case is odd and not in the way I like," Jareth said, "There are only three possibilities why they are not answering. First, there is a Runner. Second, Rossetti is annoyed with me. Third, something is very wrong."

"And because of the goblin deaths this past month..." Sarah said.

"I will not worry about it until I have some confirmation," Jareth said, "Sherlock, I am going to need you to reach out to your homeless network."

&%&%&%

As they drove to Waterloo Bridge, Jareth said half to himself, "Why has he not phoned? He has broken his pattern. Why?"

"He knows that you were the Goblin King. It is entirely possible that he is causing the interference with the Labyrinth," Sarah said.

"'Never ignore a coincidence. Unless you're busy, in which case always ignore a coincidence,'" Jareth said.

"You are not the Doctor, Jareth," Sarah said.

"But it made you smile," Jareth said.

"Just because I am amused by the comment, Jareth, does not mean I am going to silent about the fact that you are ignoring the danger you are putting yourself in," Sarah said, "The bomber either wants to be caught (which makes him suicidal/insane) or he is playing a game (which we know he is doing, but how far the game goes is the problem)."

Jareth shrugged. "I think he wants to be distracted."

"I hope you'll be very happy together," Sarah said.

"Excuse me, what?" Jareth said.

"There are lives at stake, Jareth. Actual human lives. Just so I know, do you care about that at all?" Sarah said.

"Will caring about them help save them?" Jareth asked, his voice taking a sharp edge.

"No," Sarah said.

"Then I will continue to not make that mistake," Jareth said.

Sarah sighed. "We are just something pretty to look at for a few hours to creatures like you, aren't we? A little game to play, a simple puzzle to solve during the course of eternity."

Jareth said coolly, "Yes. Is that news to you?"

Sarah said, "No." She looked out the window.

"I have disappointed you," Jareth said quietly.

"Brilliant deduction there, Dupin," Sarah said.

"Do not make people into heroes, Sarah. Heroes do not exist, and if they did, I would not be one of them," Jareth said.

The car was silent for a few moments.

"Can the two of you just shag and end this tension? It is dull and annoying," Sherlock said.

"What?" the two said.

"Good. That got your attention," Sherlock said.

"Your bees are dead, Sherlock," Jareth said.

"Did you two remember we were here?" John asked.

Sarah covered her face. "No. Sorry."

John coughed. "So, different, less awkward topic. The Hickman's contemporary art, isn't it? Why have they got hold of an old master?"

"I do not know, yet. It is dangerous to jump to conclusions. We need more data," Jareth said.

Sherlock tapped the dividing glass. "Stop. Can you wait here? I won't be a moment."

"Sherlock?" John said. The three followed the retired consulting detective as he made his way to a homeless woman.

"Change? Any change?" the woman asked.

"What for?" Sherlock asked.

"Cup of tea, of course," the woman said.

Sherlock handed some money and a piece of paper. "Here you go, 50."

"Thanks," the woman said.

Sherlock casually walked back to the three.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked.

"Investing. Now we go to the gallery. Have you got any cash?" Sherlock asked.

"I have it. Is there an ego level that one crosses when people stop carrying cash?" Sarah asked, handing a twenty to Sherlock.

Jareth stopped John and Sarah from entering the car. "No, I need you to find out all you can about the gallery attendant. Lestrade will give you the address."

"Okay," John said.

"What are you doing, Jareth?" Sarah said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Solving a murder," Jareth said.

&%&%&%

"The bomber knows you," Sherlock said as they took a cab from the gallery.

"Yes," Jareth said.

"He probably knows your weaknesses," Sherlock said.

"I did have a rather public fall from tolerance," Jareth said.

"You have more than one weakness, Jareth," Sherlock said.

Jareth raised an eyebrow, "And what is it, besides Sarah?"

"If you do not know, then the bomber may not know either," Sherlock said, "The Labyrinth is in trouble though."

"I still have a small amount of hope that the other two theories are true," Jareth said.

&%&%&%

"John and Sarah are coming the opposite direction," Sherlock said.

"John has his gun?" Jareth asked.

"Of course," Sherlock said. He looked up for a moment. "The stars are visible tonight."

Jareth refused to look up. "I am sure they are lovely."

"Do you still think it was worth it?" Sherlock asked.

"Every time she takes a breath," Jareth said.

Jareth saw the shadow of the massive man known as the Golem stand up and begin to run. Sherlock saw it too and both men ran. As they turned the corner, the two detectives saw the Golem about to reach a black car. Suddenly, they saw the blur of an oversized green coat and a red and white striped hat run straight for the assassin. Sarah tried to tackle the Golem, but she was quickly thrown off and to the ground.

In the second that it took Sarah to fall to the ground, Jareth's thoughts went a hundred different directions. Some of the thoughts went to trying to stop Sarah from falling, but those thoughts quickly died as reality smashed that possibility. A few thoughts went to how badly Sarah would be injured. The rest of his thoughts went to how best to kill Oskar Dzundza.

Sarah hit the ground hard but her head had avoided hitting the pavement. The assassin jumped into the car and it sped off before Jareth could reach it.

"Damn it," Sherlock said, "It will take us weeks to find him again."

Jareth was by Sarah's side. "What's hurt?"

"Ow. That was stupid, wasn't it?" Sarah said, sitting up stiffly, "I think I'm just bruised though. I didn't hit my head this time, which is nice."

"Do you often jump on giant assassins?" Jareth said dryly.

"Only on vacations," Sarah said, "Sorry. I thought I could slow him down for you."

"It's all right," Jareth said, his hands holding her upper arms tightly, "John should check on you."

"I'm fine, but John and I found out something when we were at Alex's apartment," Sarah said.

&%&%&%

"You broke his neck," Sarah said quietly as she checked the Golem's non-existent pulse in the planetarium.

"Self-defense," Jareth said, adjusting his gloves.

&%&%&%

A/N: On the choice of chapter name, I turn to our good old friend, Captain Jack Sparrow, "Couldn't resist mate."

Glitter pills to anyone who got the Dupin reference.

I really do loathe Oliver Cromwell. I have been to many cathedrals in the U.K. and it just makes me want to cry over all the history and lives we lost.


	7. Chapter VII: Darkest Fears

The Almighty Disclaimer

Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson

Oh Henson and Doyle,

And Pika-la Cynique the generous,

To you belongs all the characters

And none so for me!

A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth..." by Pika-la-Cynique of Girls Next Door fame. The title comes from a lyric in the song "Nightmares" by Chameleon Circuit.

&%&%&%

Sarah watched Jareth as he tried to boss around Scotland Yard's finest. "I need to have the gallery owner arrested for murder and fraud. The Vermeer is a fake."

"And how do you know that?" Lestrade asked.

"Well, I would say the assassin in the morgue would be a clue," Sherlock said.

"Who is there because fairy boy has a temper problem," Sally said.

"I am not a fairy but I do bite Sally. He attacked. I reciprocated in kind. Self-defense," Jareth said.

"I'll go down to the gallery with you," Lestrade said with a sigh, "Sally bring some uniformed officers with you. You know they're right."

"I am not letting a bunch of psychopaths have free reign over the place!" Sally shouted.

Sherlock said, "Well I can inform you that..."

Suddenly, searing pain traveled all throughout Sarah's body. She had not felt that level of pain since Jareth had removed the Labyrinth's magic from her body. Sarah screamed and screamed for what felt like eons but was really only ten seconds. When she felt the pain leave her, she could hear a whimper come from Sally and a moan come from Sherlock.

"What... what..." Sarah gasped.

As her vision cleared, Sarah saw John kneeling next to a motionless Jareth. "Jar... Jareth," Sarah said.

Jareth coughed and sat up abruptly. Blood was dripping from his mouth. "Bloody hell, what happened?" John asked.

"The... Labyrinth..." Jareth said. A crystal formed in his hand and he shook it. "Goblin King... Rossetti... Christiana. Please. Answer."

Sarah could faintly see the Goblin King in the crystal. "Gremlins, kinsman," Rossetti said, "I have to go. Another wave is coming through."

The crystal popped in Jareth's hand, but not before Sarah saw the Goblin King rip the head off a gremlin in the throne room. Sarah crawled over to Jareth's side and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Is that why Slider was killed?"

"Yes," Jareth said quietly, "The gremlins were deciding if we... if the Goblin Kingdom was vulnerable. There have been rumors of war, but little else. I honestly thought it was just talk but... but this is different."

"Has the Goblin Kingdom ever been at war before?" Sarah asked. She thought of the "army" she had faced during her run and she wanted to vomit if that was their fighting force.

"We have. It was not during my reign though," Jareth said.

"What happened to us?" Sally asked.

"The gremlins must have hit a vulnerable point in the Labyrinth. We are all connected so we felt it," Jareth said, "And yes, if the Labyrinth is destroyed, we are killed too."

"Wonderful," Sherlock said.

"Oh no," Sarah said, "Toby. I need to call my parents and see if he's okay."

Jareth frowned at this. "Damn you Sherlock. We need to get to the gallery."

"I need to call..."

"No, you don't," Jareth said, "We need to get there as quickly as possible."

&%&%&%

Jareth did not speak as they made their way into the gallery. Jareth nodded to Sherlock when Jareth was in front of the painting. Sherlock stood behind Sarah while John stood next to Lestrade.

Jareth called the bomber. "The painting is a fake."

Silence.

"Are you wondering how it is a fake? It is merely a detail. Let the hostage go. This part of the game is over," Jareth said.

Silence.

Jareth covered his mouth for a moment before speaking again. "Give me time. I have some time left."

"Thirteen."

Sarah felt Sherlock grab her and cover her mouth before she could full process who was speaking.

"Twelve."

"It's Toby," Lestrade said.

"Eleven."

"Shut up! All of you!" Jareth said.

"Ten."

"Nine."

Sarah choked back bile.

"Eight."

John was pacing.

"Seven."

Lestrade covered his mouth, his eyes tightly shut.

"Six."

Jareth was muttering.

"Five."

_I believe in you Jareth. I believe in you. Save Toby. Please._

"Four."

"THE VAN BUREN SUPERNOVA!"

Silence.

"Cutting it close, aren't you Jareth?" Toby said.

Jareth's shoulders slumped in relief. Sherlock let Sarah go and she ran next to Jareth. She grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the pink phone.

"Toby! Toby, don't move. Are you all right? Where are you? Don't describe anyone. Just tell us where you are!" Sarah said.

"There is an address in my hand," Toby said, "I'm... in a bomb. Sarah, I'm in a bomb."

Jareth put the phone in Sarah's hand. He walked over to the gallery owner, grabbed her by the throat, dragged her to the wall, and held her up against the wall.

"Who put you up to this? I have no problem killing such an insignificant creature like you," Jareth said, his goblin grin showing.

"Jareth!" Sarah shouted. She ran up next to him. "Don't you dare! Let her down!"

"Why should I? She can care less about human life. It will make the world a little less... petty," Jareth said.

"You can be cruel, Jareth, but save that cruelty for the man behind all of this," Sarah said, "Please, Jareth. For me, please."

Jareth dropped the gallery owner. "Your expectations will never stop being exhausting, will they?"

"Sarah? Jareth?" Toby asked.

"It's okay, Toby. I'll be there soon. You will be safe," Sarah said.

"Okay," Toby said. _He's so brave. He's so close to breaking but he won't. My brave little Toby._

"Donovan is outside and we'll send someone to the address," Lestrade said, placing himself between Jareth and the gallery owner.

Sarah handed the phone to Lestrade. She made Jareth face her. She gently placed her hands to cup his face.

"Look at me, Jareth, please," Sarah said.

He did and Sarah saw how broken and angry he was. "I believe in you, Jareth, just like you believed in me all those years ago. I believe that you can win this and defeat the bomber. I believe that you are the hero of this story and not the villain. To do that, though, you have to be good and do the right thing."

"I am not the hero Sarah," Jareth said softly, "I am going to make him suffer, whoever did this. Toby is my heir and I will not let this pass."

"Jareth, that is not going to happen. Do you know why? Because I am going to kill him. There will not be a scrap of him left to feed the dogs. No one harms my brother."

Jareth rested his head against Sarah's. "If you remain the pure heroine, I will be the dark, tormented hero. Deal?"

"Deal." Sarah stood on her toes and kissed Jareth's forehead. "I have to go to Toby."

"I know. Go."

&%&%&%

"Will Toby be okay?" Mr. Williams asked as he and his eldest daughter stood outside Toby's hospital room.

"I... I don't know," Sarah said.

"Is it because of that Jareth fellow?" Mr. Williams asked.

Sarah shook his head. "It's not his fault. Someone is obsessed with Jareth and wants to see if Jareth is as brilliant as everyone thinks he is."

"Is he as smart as everyone thinks he is?"

Sarah nodded her head.

"Can he stop this man?"

"Yes, Dad. Jareth won't stop hunting this man down until he's dead."

"And you being with Jareth, that helps him do better, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then Sarah, don't leave him until the bomber is dead."

Sarah hugged her Father. "I love you Daddy. Thank you."

"I love you too, princess."

&%&%&%

Sarah almost vomited when she made it out of the hospital and into the cab. Toby was safe and unharmed physically. Psychologically, he was a mess and there was nothing Sarah could do about it. She was shaking as the cab made its way across London. A few minutes into her drive, she realized something was wrong.

"Hey, where are you taking me? This isn't going to take you to Baker Street," Sarah said.

"Change of plans, my dear," the cab driver said, with the hint of an Irish accent. He looked straight ahead and Sarah could not see his face.

Sarah went to try to unlock the doors but there were strange locks that could not be opened by a passenger. She went to try to attack the cab driver but found that the window divider was closed and thicker than average glass.

"If you don't let me go, my friends will..."

"Your friends are currently trapped in the Labyrinth trying to make sure the gremlins do not destroy it. No one from there is going to be coming for you."

"You're him, aren't you? You're the bomber?"

The cab driver smiled and started chewing on a piece of gum. "You can call me Jim."

&%&%&%

A/N: Seriously, why do these people still take cabs after "A Study in Pink"?

For some reason, I feel nervous writing Moriarty. I do not feel like I do him justice. Also, for some reason, he is a very draining character to write. I have written serial killers and criminal masterminds before, but Moriarty is a special type of evil it seems to write.


	8. Chapter VIII: Childhood is the Kingdom W

The Almighty Disclaimer

Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson

Oh Henson and Doyle,

And Pika-la Cynique the generous,

To you belongs all the characters

And none so for me!

A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth..." by Pika-la-Cynique of Girls Next Door fame.

The title of this chapter comes from the poem of the same name by Edna St. Vincent Millay.

&%&%&%

"I'm shocked, shocked to find gambling in this establishment," John quoted dryly as they left the gallery.

"I do not understand that reference," Sherlock said.

"_Casablanca_. It means that John is not surprised that our bomber is Moriarty," Jareth said.

"Oh," Sherlock said, "If you are going to be sarcastic, do so in a less plebeian way, would you John?"

Sherlock was smacked across the back of his head by Jareth. "Behave, you idiot."

"And after I figured out that idiotic mystery for my brother," Sherlock said.

"The brother-in-law did it, right?" Jareth said.

"I hate you sometimes," Sherlock said, "but then I remember how boring life would be otherwise..." Sherlock held up a flash drive.

&%&%&%

"How long?" Sherlock asked. He was sprawled out on the couch and John was fussing with the tea in the kitchen.

"I should hear something in the next few hours," Jareth said, knowing full well what Sherlock was asking.

"Do you have any idea how... well they are doing?"

"We have not had that pain again, so the goblins are still able to defend the Labyrinth," Jareth said. He tapped his riding crop against his leg, thinking.

"It was always like this, wasn't it? I was just too young to understand before. There were always enemies, weren't there?"

"Never to this scale."

"Even after... even after you lost, you were defending it?"

Jareth was silent.

"And it wasn't just for her. It was for anyone who needed it. You protected the Labyrinth for any of the young who might stumble or be wished-away to it, like how I used to be."

Jareth was quiet for a long time. "You are still quite young, Sherlock. You still believe that there is more out there."

"There is more and you believe that."

"I used to believe that nobody died too."

John handed a cup of tea to Jareth. "We have to leave for our train in a minute. Are you sure it is all right for us to go? Things still aren't settled in the Labyrinth."

"You need to go back to your patients, doctor," Jareth said, "There is nothing else you can do here. None of us are allowed to fight for the Labyrinth. Go. Don't worry about me."

John nodded and went to grab his coat.

"Make sure you send the message," Jareth said in a low tone.

"Already done," Sherlock said, "I should go instead. It was my case."

"You were a child, Sherlock. It never was your case."

Sherlock grabbed his coat and looped a blue scarf around his neck. "She really should have a different password."

"What was it? Password?"

"Much simpler than that," Sherlock said, "It was your name."

With that, Sherlock and John left.

&%&%&%

There were some duties that one did even when one was no longer the Goblin King. One of those things was protecting one's charges during one's reign, be they wished-away or wisher.

Even so, had this not be in place, Jareth was not going to let Sherlock become involved with Moriarty.

"I bought you a little getting-to-know-you present. That's what it's all been for, isn't it? All your little puzzles... making me dance. All to distract me from this," Jareth said, holding up the flash drive.

A door opened. Jareth was ready for anyone or anything.

Except for one.

He was not even able to say her name, only able to mouth the word, "Sarah." She was wearing a large, new parka and had a strange blank look on her face. She did not blink. She did not look at him but only in his general direction.

"Evening. This is a turn-up, isn't it, Jareth? Bet you never saw this coming." Sarah opened up her coat, showing that she was wearing one of those horrible vests and a red laser dot danced across her chest. "What would you like me to make her say next? 'It's a crystal. Nothing more.' 'How have you enjoyed my Labyrinth?' 'Just fear me, love me, do as I say and...'."

"Stop it," Jareth said, regaining his wrath, "Sarah is not yours and you have no right to control her in anyway."

"She isn't yours either, Goblin King," Sarah said, "Nice touch this. This pool. Where little Carl died. I stopped him, I can stop..." Sarah swallowed before continuing to speak. "Sarah Williams, too. Stop her heart."

"You have chosen poorly, whoever you are, to think that using Sarah as a shield would lessen my wrath," Jareth said.

"You forget, Goblin King, you have no pow..." Sarah tried to say the words but her jaw was snapped shut. A look of panic crossed her face as it became obvious that she had no control over her ability to speak anymore.

Jareth grinned. "Such a pity you know so little about magic. Sarah can say those words to me if, and only if, they apply to herself. She cannot say those words for anyone else."

Sarah was able to speak again. "I can see how this girl can turn your world, Goblin King. Nothing works right when she's around. I was planning on this game a little after the cabbie game, but then Sarah Williams, Champion of the Labyrinth, shows up and ruins everything."

"Who are you?" Jareth asked.

A door creaked open. "I gave you my number. I thought you would call." Jim from IT stepped out in a Westwood suit.

_Why is he familiar? Why is he so familiar?_

"Is that a crystal in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?" Jim asked.

Jareth pulled a crystal from out of his jacket pocket. "Oh, both Jim. Or should I say, James Doyle. What has it been? Twenty-two years? I should have realized that once I could not contact the Goblin King that someone with a long-standing grudge was working against the Goblin Kingdom."

Jim placed a hand over his heart in mock shock. "You remembered me? I am stunned. Though, I am often called Jim Moriarty or the Gremlin King nowadays."

"It's not often that a wished-away has their wish taken away," Jareth said, "Is that what this is all about?"

"Oh, no. That's only a small part of it .I've given you a glimpse, Jareth. Just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see. Like you."

Jareth smiled. "A consulting criminal. Brilliant."

"Isn't it?" Jim said, obviously pleased with himself, "No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will."

"I did," Jareth said.

"You've come the closest. Now you're in my way, goblin."

Jareth bowed his head. "Thank you."

"Didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes, you did."

"Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting is over. Jareth. Daddy's had enough now. I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, killed a few goblins, even 30 million quid, just to get you to come out and play. So, take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off. Although I have loved this. This little game of ours."

"This isn't a game. This is war. People have died," Jareth said.

"That's what people DO!" Jim shouted the last word.

Jareth did not allow the sudden outburst to effect him though he could tell it surprised Sarah. "I will stop you, James, like I should have when we found out that you were planning on using your wish to kill someone," Jareth said.

"No you won't," Jim said.

Jareth focused his attention on Sarah, realizing the futility of trying to reason with a mad man. "Did he hurt you? Are you all right?" Jareth asked.

Sarah remained silent, biting her lower lip.

"You can talk, princess," Moriarty said, half-whispering in her ear.

Sarah resisted shivering at the closeness between her and Moriarty. "Piece of cake."

"Take it," Jareth said, holding out the flash drive.

"Oh, that? The missile plans," Jim said, taking the flash drive, "Boring. I could have got them anywhere." He tossed the plans into the pool.

Sarah ran forward and held onto Moriarty. "Jareth run!" she shouted.

"Oh, good! Very good! Glad to see you've trained her by now, Jareth," Jim said, "'You have no power over me.' What an absolutely rubbish way to lose your throne. I'm glad you got something out of that mess by now."

"Now listen here, Jimmy. When my brother was taken, I tore apart a kingdom and usurped the Goblin King. He didn't harm my brother. What do you think is going to happen to you, Gremlin King?" Sarah said.

Jim merely nodded towards the consulting detective. Jareth saw by Sarah's face that there was a laser on his person. She immediately let Moriarty go.

Jim brushed off his suit with a look of disgust. "Westwood."

"I noticed. I like the little skulls on your tie. It works for the whole villain mystique," Jareth said.

"By all the powers that be, are you two forgetting I am wearing C-4 not as a fashion statement?" Sarah said.

"She is right," Moriarty said, "It might get a bit messy in here if you don't let me go. Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Jareth? To you?

"Oh, let me guess, I get killed?" Jareth yawned. "How dull."

"Kill you? No, don't be obvious, I mean, I'm going to kill you anyway, someday. I don't want to rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you. I will burn the heart out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one," Jareth said.

Jim walked back towards Sarah. "But we both know that's not quite true. 'Till the world falls down' is quite a promise, Jareth. I can certainly put that to the test for you... Well, I'd better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat after all these years."

Jareth held up his crystal towards Moriarty. "What if I was to end you? Right now?"

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face," Jim made a mock look of surprise. "Cause, I'd be surprised. Jareth. Really, I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course, you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Goblin King." Jim made his way to an exit.

"Catch you, later," Jareth said slowly.

"No, you won't," Jim said in a sing-song voice. He snapped his fingers and then let the door slam behind him as he left.

The former Goblin King and the Champion of the Labyrinth did not move, even when they saw the snipers' lasers were gone. They looked at each other with horror and concern. Jareth slipped the crystal into his jacket pocket and ran towards Sarah, sliding to a stop in front of her.

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" Jareth unzipped the bomb jacket and pulled it off Sarah.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," Sarah said, staggering when Jareth ripped the jacket off and slid it across the tile floor. "Are you hurt?"

Jareth embraced Sarah and let out a sigh of relief. "You're asking me if I'm all right? After you were kidnapped by a mad bomber?" _She's so slight. Her heartbeat is strong though._

"He won't kill me... yet. He wants to play with you. Watch you dance and writhe," Sarah said, "He won't kill me unless you can watch and it's slow." Sarah clung to Jareth and breathed in deeply his scent. "I'm really glad no one saw that."

"Wh...why precious?" Jareth asked. _My voice needs to stop shaking. Why is she wearing the clothes she ran in?_

"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk," Sarah said, letting off a desperate laugh.

"People do little else, precious," Jareth said. He took a moment and breathed in the scent of her hair (_just plain shampoo and a hint of rose soap on her skin),_ enjoying the feel of her pressed up against him. "Let's go home. I am worried that he will change his... damn."

Jareth saw the red lasers appear again, only there were several dozen trained on them now. They both turned and the two stood back to back with Jareth facing where Moriarty had left.

"Sorry dearies, I'm so changeable," Moriarty said, strolling back into the room, "It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you. But everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

"Probably my answer has crossed yours," Jareth said, holding up the crystal.

"Not enough magic to kill me and all my snipers there, Jareth," the Gremlin King said, grinning.

"But there is certainly enough to set off that bomb," Jareth said.

Jim continued grinning. "I double dare you, Jareth, to kill the girl who you twice gave up your kingdom for."

To Be Continued

&%&%&%

A/N: I was not planning on Moriarty being the Gremlin King until I had finished "A Study in Glitter" when I realized that my little jokes about gremlins actually could be a plot point.

This was the second scene that I had planned out (after the healing scene in "A Study in Glitter") though it went through a lot of changes as more plot points became obvious as I wrote this out.

Thank you for reading! Now, onto the next chapter of our dynamic duo in "The Babe with the Power" a.k.a. "A Scandal in Belgravia" which should be out by the beginning of June.


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